The Sugar Sickness
by Very Sincerely Yours
Summary: Pre movie; The doctor told them what was coming, but they still weren't prepared the first time he got sick. Years later, as accomplished, adult witch hunters, they still forgot how severe it was. They forgot, because you can never really be prepared. Not with something like that, not ever. (includes serpent witch, hurt hansel, sibling angst and general witch hunting plot)
1. I

**The Sugar Sickness**

**Very Sincerely Yours**

_The doctor told them what was coming, but they still weren't prepared the first time he got sick. Years later, as accomplished, adult witch hunters, they still forgot how severe it was. They forgot, because you can never really be prepared. Not with something like that, not ever._

There was another town, another woodland witch and another child lost. They weren't called especially, just passing through, and although there was no money involved they were promised food and shelter and medical supplies, things that were desperately needed after their last run in barely a town over. It was a good deal, one they would have been stupid not to accept, and so accept they did. She patched herself up quickly, only suffering minor cuts and scratches and a single, rather nasty bruise on her upper arm which would require continual application of ointment in case the bone had been damaged. Then she moved on to him, he who had suffered far, far worse just like he usually did.

He who was laughing at her and showing no outward signs of pain, none at all... just like he usually did.

"_Hansel_," Gretel said, a warning heavy in her tone as she moved closer to him with a wet cloth and healing herbs. She didn't need to elaborate but she had half a mind to anyway, because although Hansel could read and understand her every glance he rarely listened to the words she uttered. Gretel got fed up incredibly quickly, but the fact still remained; he was her brother. He would drive her crazy and her anger would manifest but then he would get hurt, either during a hunt, accidentally and because of his own foolishness, or in her place as he so often did, taking the pain for her. He would smile lopsidedly in that special way he smiled or do something sweet for her like pick up food from the markets while she slept so she didn't have to. She would catch him glancing at her to make sure she was fine or watch him drink himself into a stupor even though he never had more than one or two glasses of ale, the scars that marred his skin would flash into her mind and she'd remember how he'd sleep on the cold, hard floor beside her because they always, always, slept in the same room and she liked to spread out during the night and she would wonder whether the daemons haunted him too and he drunk because it helped with the unavoidable pain. She'd watch him shift awkwardly in front of women, or grow shy around strangers and her anger would dissipate because he was her younger brother and she loved him.

Gretel would watch him take out a needle and inject that damn liquid into his thigh, the mixture that saves him and drains the life out of him for days at a time, and she would remember how much she needed him.

How much they needed each other.

"I'm fine Gretel, no need to worry. I can deal with it myself, I promise."

Gretel held a finger up at him, staring him down in all seriousness, and he froze where he sat.

"_Don't. Lie. To me._"

Hansel wisely shut his mouth, lowing his head in a sign of submission, his mouth set in a straight line. Gretel hated that expression, the regret that clouded his eyes whenever she so much as quipped with him. Sometimes he smiled and those eyes sparkled and they'd laugh and grin and be siblings again. Sometimes it was fine.

And people never, _never_ realized that they weren't always fine, that the only reason they'd survived throughout their childhoods and even now was because they had learnt to separate being siblings and being hunters. They could hate each other because of something stupid as brothers and sisters often did, and yet they would go out seconds later and have each other's backs like they were the same person. They were close, no. Close didn't cover it, but they'd finish a hunt and go back to hating each other until he'd say something or they'd treat their wounds or she'd see him laying down below her on the floor, obviously cold and uncomfortable but not saying so much as a single word in complaint.

She'd remember how he'd always looked out for her in every possible way, be reminded of his fierce protectiveness. She'd see him with a needle and be instantly sorry.

Hansel would never need any time to forgive.

Now, with his eyes clouded and '_sorry_' written all over his features, Gretel wanted to kick herself. He hated _making_ her upset just as badly as he hated _seeing_ her upset and she realized now that maybe her being angry with him was the reason he drunk himself silly and ran off to scout ahead alone and never gave any thought to his own well-being at all. Maybe that was the reason he was hurting.

Gretel wanted to tell him that they were good, that everything was okay and she wasn't mad anymore, but she knew that with Hansel actions spoke louder than words.

"Let me..." she continued softly, kneeling down in front of his position on the edge of the bed. She brought the cloth up and softly brushed away some of the dirt from a bloody patch at his temple, revealing a jagged gash underneath. It was still bleeding sluggishly, fresh blood dripping across the skin she'd just cleaned, and Gretel caught him watching her as she focused on the small section of his bruised and battered features. The wound itself was slightly swollen and inflamed, and Gretel pressed slightly against the center of it to check for pus or any other sign that Hansel's body had been fighting infection. He winced and flinched away.

"Baby," she mumbled quietly, wiping at the fresh blood. '_Baby_', because he was _her_ little brother despite the minuteness of the age gap and everyone else _always_ assumed that they were twins or she was younger and they'd _never_ correct anyone because there were somethings about them that no one should and would ever know.

Hansel smiled. It was tiny, smaller than tiny, little and fragile and pure and Gretel smiled back to show that it was fine and they were safe and she wasn't mad anymore.

Once the blood from the small gash had clotted and the flesh, although lightly swollen and red, was clean, Gretel moved on to the rest of her brother's face, repeating the same treatment to the four other cuts that adorned his features. He sat quietly, not sparing a breath on the pain.

After each was cleaned thoroughly, Hansel picked up a cloth of his own and the rest of his face was clear after only a few seconds, thankfully revealing no new injuries save a nasty bruise that colored his check and disappeared up into his hairline. Gretel made a note to use some of the ointment for her arm on it later as well.

Hansel threw the soiled cloth away and removed his leather vest and shirt. The later was completely ruined, torn and sticky with mud and blood, but the vest wasn't so bad, so Gretel made a note to wash it for him later so that he didn't have to buy a new one.

While Hansel wrapped up his calf, which had suffered the brunt of a witch's broom, Gretel noted the deep bruises on his lower back and treated the wound on his shoulder, a wide, bloody cut that made his entire arm hard to move. This one took a while longer but it was the last they had to deal with, so after it was cleaned and bandaged Gretel stepped back and stretched out her sore muscles.

Hansel picked up the soiled fabrics and threw them into the fire.

"It's late, Sis," he said, yawning. "You should eat something."

"Just me?" Gretel replied, moving over to rummage through one of their packs. She found some fruit and bread in the bigger, heavier bag (the one Hansel always carried, she noted absently) and gathered some of it into her arms.

"Can't eat. The witch bitch clipped me in the stomach with a branch or something, I'll probably get sick."

Gretel looked back at him, her brows creased with worry. She had half a mind to go over to him and feel his stomach, to check for stiff muscles and therefore internal bleeding, although she was sure bruising would soon form if he'd bled inside. She watched him stretch his injured shoulder with a wince and nodded silently to herself, taking the food over to the table for the morning. She took an apple in her mouth and bit half of it off at once.

"How long are we going to stay here?" Hansel asked, moving to sit on the bed again, his head dropping into one palm as if he were too tired to hold it up any longer. Gretel hummed softly, thinking, and moved over to the window to look out over the darkened street bellow. The wind blew her hair back behind her, the cold air making Hansel's skin break out in bumps. She took another bite of her apple.

"As long as we need to. We'll wait until we're healed and double check that none of the coven got away, enjoy some peace for a little while." Another bite and the apple core was thrown out into the dirty street, the window shut firmly and locked, the curtain drawn across it. The reflections in the glass, the flashes of light from the fireplace, all disappeared, the flames themselves snuffed down until they were barely embers, and Gretel moved to light another candle so they could see each other properly. She saw the rings under her brothers eyes and yawned loudly, stretching her arms above her head.

Hansel stood and moved over to their packs, pulling out an old, thin shirt and sliding it on to fend off the chill that seeped through the wood now that the fire was diminished. He made a mental note to get a new one tomorrow, realizing that most if not all of his shirts were torn and soiled beyond repair.

"Now," he said, pulling the sleeve over the metal device attached to his wrist. He reached down and found his pouch of needles still buckled to his leg. "We sleep."

Hansel glanced up at Gretel and smiled, softly but sincerely, before focusing his attention back on the pouch. He unclipped it and carried it over to the bedside table, scratching absently at the back of his head.

"Of to bed with you, Sis."

Gretel wanted to argue, to say that he needed the comfort of sheets and a pillow more than she did, but knew that it would be no use. She'd tried to convince him to take the bed in the past, for they always only took one room for safety reasons as well as their genetic desire to remain close to one another at all times, but there was never enough space for both of them in one bed. She knew Hansel was looking out for her in his own way, but she couldn't help but get sick of his self-sacrificial attitude. It had been sweet until she realized that he seriously didn't so much as think about his own comfort and or well-being.

With a sigh she slipped off her boots, jacket and other heavy clothing, leaving her simply in undergarments, and pulled an old shirt over her head before slipping underneath the sheets. She had to admit that it felt nice, especially the softness against her injured arm, but she still turned over and up on one hand to watch Hansel drop down to the floor. He had picked up his bloody shirt, the one he'd taken off earlier while she had cleaned his cuts, and slid it under his head. It barely did anything, that much was obvious, but still he settled himself on his back, despite how loudly the bruises there screamed at him.

Gretel watched as his grey eyes closed and she smiled softly. Before he could fall asleep, she rolled onto her chest and let her arm fall down to tousle his hair, chuckling when he groaned and slid away. He opened one eye and glared, but she simply reached further and took his hand in hers.

He brought it up and kissed her knuckles, before releasing the extremity and letting her reach up to snuff the candle.

"Goodnight, Sis," Hansel yawned, his features lost in blackness as the light left the room.

Even in the dark Gretel reached out once more, brushing her fingers through her brother's short hair soothingly as he slipped into an exhausted sleep. She waited a few more seconds, keeping up her gentle ministrations until she was sure he was gone.

"Goodnight... Hansel."

~.~

The clicking and whirring started long before the sun was ready to peek over the horizon.

Hansel groaned, his brain exhausted and far too sleep addled to comprehend the situation. He tried to move one arm, only to be reminded that said arm was injured as the pain flared and he groaned again. The other arm, his right this time, was easier to move, and after a knocking it against the bed a few times he finally dragged it next to his head.

The noises only grew louder.

At this point, Hansel had decided that there was indeed something he had to be doing, but the clicking and whirring only further muddled his already muddled brain. The sound was familiar, too familiar, and when the pain finally hit him the world came rushing back.

_Damn that fucking candy._

With the quietest grunt he could manage, Hansel reached out with his good arm and hauled his body closer to the bedside table where he was sure his medicine lay. Something fell and shattered but he couldn't recognize the shapes in the dark and ignored it, moving until he was leaning back against the cupboard, his head dropping forward as he panted heavily. Agony spread through him, fast enough to restrict his movement but slow enough to mock him, and with another grunt he reached up to try and find his pouch.

There was the candle, he felt the wax against his fingers, and then sheets and sheets of paper and something small and round that he couldn't name. He kept moving, the pain intensifying until he was gasping, his hand slipping further along until it bumped against something made of leather but he couldn't twist towards it any further.

It didn't help that he was also left handed and therefore far less co-ordinated than usual.

Still he tried, one last time, to force himself closer to his pouch, but instead it was pushed and fell and landed with a crack a meter or so away.

_Fucking, fucking, __**fucking**__ candy._

Hansel had a problem. Multiple, in fact, but there was one more vital than the others. Other than he burning agony that spread through him, the fact that he could no longer draw an adequate amount of air into his lungs and the dizziness that disorientated him, there was his very possible death approaching at an extremely fast pace.

Without the medicine, he would die.

_Fuck_.

He wasted a few moments trying to breathe, only to find that his lungs were failing him, before practically falling in the direction he needed to move, his injured shoulder crushed between the rest of his body weight and the floor. He let out a cry, because everything was hurting and he was sure that trying to stop such a sound would only increase his agony, and desperately reached for the pouch, only to find that his arm, which felt heavier than lead and pumpkins and that damn pack he carried so Gretel wouldn't have to, would only move half way.

More pain, and paralysis, and he gasped loudly in an attempt to call for his slumbering sister.

His eyes closed and the darkness descended, only to be forced back as Hansel heard the sounds of another body moving and stretching and then they were _closer closer closer_-

"Hansel!"

Then there was Gretel, gripping his shoulder, moving her hand under his face and lifting it and he could only groan, his mind begging her to hurry up and _save me please._

Gretel couldn't see how pale he was, but her fingers brushed over his neck and found his pulse, a weak, irregular _thump, thump, thump_ before her head shot up and she followed the direction of his outstretched, heavy-as-lead arm to see the shadow of the little leather pouch lying, immobile, less than a meter from Hansel's fingers. She dove for it, barely pushing herself off the ground before the smooth fabric was gripped in her fist and she yanked out a syringe. Something wet ran over her fingers, and she felt the needle only to find a small crack running down one side, but before she could think about replacing it Hansel groaned weakly again and she pulled herself over to his leg.

She took the needle in both hands, desperately hoping that the crack wouldn't splinter further, and inserted it into Hansel's thigh, using her two thumbs to lower the plunger. More of it dripped out into the palms of her hands but she was sure enough had found its way into his blood. Gretel removed it and threw it behind her, sliding up and taking Hansel's face in both hands.

He was still warm.

With a shaking sigh, Gretel reached up and felt for the candle, pulling it down when her fumbling fingers found the wax. She took a match from the holder and lit it, wincing when the sudden light hurt her eyes.

"Uggnnn..."

Gretel would have jumped for joy at the sound of Hansel's voice if she weren't holding a dry flame, so she placed the candle down next to her carefully and went to help her brother sit up again. She tried to move slowly, taking his good arm and pulling him back up the right way, his chin caught in her other hand so he didn't hurt himself further, and Gretel worriedly noted how pale Hansel was, his skin almost ashen, like the color of the moon. She watched him groan and shake his head, breathing heavily and as if he were afraid he'd forgotten how to.

"Hansel..." Gretel whispered, softly, and she was rewarded when his eyes blinked open and up to meet hers.

He gave her a small smile and she fought the urge to laugh uproariously in relief.

"It's okay, Sis," he murmured, his voice hoarse and barely audible. "I'm okay."

And Gretel understood.

He wasn't being an ass or a maytr or trying to play things down to make her feel better, it was a reassurance, to them _both_.

_I'm okay._

_I'm alive._

He was shaking, hurting, pale, ashen and exhausted but he still breathed and that made him okay, made them okay. Not perfect, not good, not even fine.

He was living and breathing and that was all they needed.

Hansel gave another small smile, coughing softly as he let his head fall down against his chest again. His eyes fluttered closed, long lashes obscuring blue-grey irises from view.

Gretel reached forward and took his cheek in her hand.

"Come on," she whispered gently, realizing that Hansel was far too tired to use any initiative. She moved her other arm behind his back, sliding closer and wrapping him up in a hug despite how her own injury protested, and pulled him forward, off the cupboard and the draw handles that were poking into his already bruised back. She hoisted them both up, feeling him react to her movements accordingly but certain that he wasn't properly aware, and together they managed to get to the edge of the bed. Gretel lowered her brother down gently, hearing him sigh in relief at the softness of the mattress and pillow.

She couldn't remember the last time he'd spend a night in a bed.

Before she could dwell on that particular thought, Gretel moved back, picking up the candle and using it to find Hansel's needle pouch. She checked each tube, finding only one other cracked vile, and removed it before placing the leather bag back on the cabinet. She returned to her brother's side with a sigh, only to find him loitering on the edge of sleep.

Her mind flashed back to the needles and the contraption on Hansel's wrist, the times when he would move off, away from her, to inject the liquid into his leg, the tiredness that marred his features for those few moments whenever the medicine took effect. She remembered the days he could barely stand, void of all energy because of that blasted illness and crappy liquid that kept him alive, always brushing it off so she wouldn't worry even though she worried about him more than anything and anyone else.

Gretel sat down against the headboard, pulling Hansel's head into her lap, stroking his hair soothingly. She feel him relax and reached out to pull the thin blankets over his shivering form. He was still pale and breathing heavily but Gretel was glad, extremely glad that she'd woken up when she had. She brushed his cheek and he turned his face into her hand, mumbling something inaudible.

She'd watch over him, she thought, leave the candle burning until sunrise when she'd leave for the morning markets to check in with the mayor and buy Hansel a new shirt. She'd leave him a note and tell him to stay at the inn, to eat something, to sleep in the bed because he needed it more than she did and if he argued she'd knock his head in.

But before all that, before anything else, Gretel would just sit and feel. Hansel was there, his body relaxed and pliant and safe in her arms once again.

Nothing else mattered.

~.~

**firstly, I ** love this movie.**

**secondly, this story is my latest obsession, so I'm putting off everything else just to write write write write. I'm already 10,000 words in and on going, meaning this isn't just a hurt hansel oneshot although I will continue to hurt him in the plot to come. Still, keep reading, and I'll develop something cool (hopefully, anyway, it is the plan after all :D)**

**Anything you want to see, tell me, because I may not use it but I'm willing to give anything a try. Don't worry about your ideas being weird, hell, tell me exactly how you think my entire plot line should go! I could ignore you or I could make this thing even better than I'd ever hope for and I'll make sure to credit everything, promise.**

**Until next time,**

**Very Sincerely Yours**


	2. II

**Chapter 2**

~.~

When Hansel woke, he was alone.

For the first few minutes he just lay there, on his back, blinking up at the ceiling and letting his eyes adjust to the sunlight which poured in through the open window. He could have sworn said window was closed and covered the night before. He could feel no pain in his limbs, only the heavy feeling, the numbness in his shoulder, arm and right leg, and the fogginess that surrounded his mind but was slowly dripping away. He continued to blink, focusing on the blandness of the wooden ceiling planks as yesterday came back to him. The witch, the walking, the town and the mayor. They cleaned up and went to bed and then there was asleep, he could remember that, but something else was there as well, a deep void in his memory and events he couldn't place.

_A dream?_

_A nightmare?_

Hansel shook some of the lingering fog from his head, slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position. Gretel, I'll ask Gretel. She'll know... An ache spread through his body, dull and bearable, and he flexed his injured shoulder for a few seconds before letting his hands fall down onto the cushions again.

_...wait, cushions?_

Hansel jumped up, almost tumbling onto his face as his legs got caught in the sheets, twisted and clawing and _Gretel Gretel Gretel._

_She isn't here, she can't be here, if I took the bed then something must have happened and she must be gone and where is she? What was it? What if it was something horrible and bad and she's taken or hurt or-_

Hansel slipped and fell onto his backside, groaning in pain and frustration, his hand having flown out and knocked the objects on the bedside cabinet onto the floor, pieces of paper fluttering in the air and landing on his own chest. He shook, breathing heavily, glancing around the room, trying to calm down before he moved again incase anxiety prematurely triggered his illness. Almost three deep inhales later, Hansel's eyes flickered down and he froze completely, staring at one of the papers in front of him. It only took a few seconds, Hansel recognizing his sister's neat script instantly, and he shot up again, gripping the paper like it was a lifeline, his eyes blown wide as he read it once, twice and then again.

_Gone downtown, meeting the mayor at noon. Eat something. -Gretel_

Hansel's entire body relaxed.

With a relieved sigh and a glance out the open window, (Hansel, after a moment, deduced that it was past noon already) he lifted himself up onto his feet again. There was no headache, only the heavy feeling that wouldn't completely dissipate, lingering fogginess and the stiffness in his shoulder and lower back, which Hansel was sure looked more than a little disgusting. There was also the dull ache in his abdomen and he was sure that Gretel was right; he needed food, although if he was correct in assuming that she left for the markets at dawn then she would be waiting for him to join in their meeting with the mayor, which he was already late for.

So, eat food or go find Gretel?

_She'll knock my head in if I don't eat, but I don't want her to be angry. She hates being left waiting, especially when it's me._

_But something happened, a something that only appears as a dark, gaping void in my mind, so she would forgive me, right? This once? Does she know what it was?_

_Was it something to do with her?_

He shook his head as if to forcibly remove his thoughts before deciding that punctually, no matter now un-punctual, was the better choice. He straightened his shirt and pants, hoping he looked even remotely decent, before sliding on his fingerless gloves and grabbing his still dirty vest from the back of a chair. He brushed it off quickly, checking himself over once more before leaving and shutting the door behind him, struggling to maneuver his arms into the vest's sleeves as he moved. He took the stairs two at a time and bounded out the door, ignoring the innkeeper's loud good day! without so much as sparing a glance in his direction.

As soon as the fresh air filled his lungs Hansel's head was finally completely clear and he smiled brightly to himself, fixing his clothes once more before moving briskly along the dusty street. His boots crunched with each step, a gentle wind brushing past his bruised face. There were few people out, most having retreated to the feast at the town's centre, and those who he walked past said nothing to him.

_The feast... The townsfolk want to celebrate the return of the little girl, don't they? Hansel wondered absently, Gretel wouldn't have attended. It should be coming to a close now, I might not be as late as I thought._

With that thought he increased his pace, moving quickly between the small, wooden houses. The sun bet down heavily, the air slightly sticky.

"Hansel! You're Hansel, aren't you?"

Hansel turned quickly, startled, only to find a young boy running up to tug at his pants. The child was barely seven years old with dark hair and bright eyes, and Hansel fought the urge to run from him. He was never any good with children; that was Gretel's strength. She was the one who spoke to any of the lost boys and girls they saved, coax them back home. Hansel always stood back, watching quietly from the sidelines, guarding and observing but not interacting because he would never want to hurt anything so innocent and small, never taint them with his harshness or his illness.

The little boy stepped back, smiling brightly up at him, and Hansel forced himself not to run.

"Yes..." Hansel mumbled uncertainly.

"You killed the witches!"

The boy was almost bouncing, rocking back and forward on the balls of his feet, his face bright with excitement.

"Some of them, there might be more."

The reply was stupid and ridiculously modest (there'd been four witches terrorizing the town and they'd killed two of them outright, severely injuring another but missing the forth, not with a lack of trying of course) but Hansel didn't want this boy to think of him as a hero, of someone to look up to. Heroes were good, and those that were good were expected to do good, and Hansel didn't think he could handle that.

"Look... Kid. I'm sorta running late so..."

"When I get big I wanna be strong like you," the boy exclaimed happily and Hansel's heart dropped.

_Ugh, why can't Gretel be here._

"Look, Buddy," Hansel began awkwardly, trying to avoid the child's idolizing eyes. "I'm not... you shouldn't be like me."

"Why not?"

"Well... What I... what I do, it isn't..."

"I have a sister too you know," the boy said happily, not at all thrown off by Hansel's apprehension. "She's bigger than me, but she gets sick a lot. I'm gonna look after her! I'll be strong then won't I?"

There were the hopeful eyes and the innocence and Hansel desperately tried to keep his face passive. He didn't know what it would be if it weren't passive, but he knew that he wouldn't let anyone, especially the boy in front of him, see him with a face anything less than just that. He took a deep breath, gluing his eyes to the floor.

"Yeah... we all need to look after the people we love."

The boy's face split into a wide, toothy grin and he nodded exuberantly.

"Now, Kid, I've really got to go..."

"Bye Mr Hansel!"

Hansel watched as the little body turned and ran away from him, stopping at the corner and turning back to wave before disappearing completely.

A small smile twisted Hansel's mouth and he spent a second standing still before he turned and continued to make his way to the town hall, his head spinning and whirring in ways it never had before.

And for some strange reason, his chest didn't feel as heavy as it usually did.

~.~

The last thing Gretel expected was for the door to creak open.

The Mayor had been updating her with new information, some suspicious activity that had occurred since their run in with the four woodland witches. It appeared that their job wasn't quite finished, although a single, injured witch and possibly another weakened one wasn't usually all that much of a challenge.

Mayor Rennin himself was a man of sixty, his hair graying and face haggard. Whenever he spoke his powerful voice reverberated around inside the small office, and so when he was cut off by Hansel's entrance there was a soft echo filling the momentary silence.

Gretel herself didn't so much as turn around when she heard the door opening, waiting until there was some other sign she could use to deduce the identity of the intruder. As soon as Hansel's boot hit the ground and he walked further into the room, she knew it was him. Irritation filled her mind and she didn't turn in case he looked as bad as she thought he would. He moved back and leant against the wall, remaining completely silent.

_You barely slept, probably didn't eat and I'll be surprised if you don't look like shit. I told you to stay put you stubborn mule, damn you!_

Mayor Rennin shot her a curious glance, no doubt wondering why her brother had joined them later than she had, but continued where he'd left off, ever the professional.

"-northwest. The travelers lost a few men and were suffering from mild shock but otherwise unharmed."

"How many remained?" Gretel asked, bluntly. She liked the mayor; he was always straight to the point. It was the same with the town's sheriff, a younger man with dark hair and a thin layer of stubble. Both were incredibly cooperative and the town itself was generous, supplying her and Hansel with food and water as well as a place to stay free of charge in return for their services for as long as they needed. She was almost disappointed that they hadn't come across this place sooner.

"Four. They're currently staying with the sheriff and his wife, our physician lives only a block away. We would have them at the inn but some of the townsfolk aren't happy with them staying here. They don't like strangers you see, 'specially ones who've crossed paths with witches. You can go talk to them any time you like."

Gretel nodded, deciding that it was time to wrap things up so she could talk to Hansel, alone, both to work out their next course of action and berate him for his behavior.

"We will, hopefully this afternoon," she confirmed, rising slowly. The mayor mimicked her action. "From there we should have somewhere to start."

The older man nodded thoughtfully before inclining his head and biding them farewell.

~.~

"What the hell were you thinking Hansel?!"

Gretel's voice stung, anger and irritation dripping thickly from her tone as she yelled loudly at him, drawing the attention of the few villages bustling down the otherwise deserted side street. She was fuming and had been since she'd seen him as they'd left the mayor's office. He looked sloppy and exhausted, hair out at odd angles and heavy rings under his red eyes. His clothing was another thing entirely, muddy vest and creased, ripped top over pants he'd obviously slept in. She wanted to yell, scream, lock him in the inn to hide the disgrace until he properly learnt to dress himself.

Her mind swirled and all rational thought clouded over, temporarily out of reach.

"Gretel, I..."

She should have recognized the sadness, that pain that she was causing, because he was her brother and she loved him.

She should have, but she didn't.

"You look like a pig! You walk in, in front of the mayor, like you have a hangover and nothing better to do, ridiculously late, and I can tell that you haven't eaten, how could you have when you look like that? You're a stubborn ass Hansel and I'm sick of it! I'm sick of your attitude! There is a right way and a wrong way of doing things, I thought you understood that!"

Hansel visibly flinched, eyes downcast, jaw clenched, eyes giving away no emotion. He liked to keep his feelings to himself in order to retain a strong exterior, but had faith in Gretel's ability to read and understand him. The fact that she couldn't or wasn't doing so now scared him deeply.

"I'm... _I'm sorry_, Gretel, please..."

"No." Gretel looked at him briefly, not bothering to hide her disappointment and disgust, before turning away, her hand massaging her temple as if there was a throbbing pain hidden there. "No, Hansel."

He bit his lip, shaking his own head, tugging at his short hair.

"...I thought something happened. To you."

This caught Gretel's attention although she forced herself not to let Hansel see that.

"I couldn't...remember. We went to bed and slept and then something happened, I know it did, but it's all black and there's nothing, Gretel. I woke up and I was in the bed and I panicked, I thought something might have happened..." Hansel faltered, choking at the thought of Gretel hurt or off to kill a witch alone in the middle of the night. He shook his head slowly, staring at the ground, finding it increasingly difficult to keep his emotion in check.

He didn't see Gretel's eyes soften.

"It doesn't matter," he whispered, suddenly willing to do almost anything to be alone. He felt his eyes threatening to spill over and needed to be as far away from everyone, especially Gretel, in case that happened. "I want to...to take another look around the boarder. If you need anything..."

He let the sentence trail off and before Gretel could stop him Hansel was half way down the street. A trail of dust was left in his wake, his hunched figure retreating quickly. Boots crunched against the ground, wood creaked.

And if Gretel saw the drops of wetness staining the dirt like a trail of breadcrumbs, glinting subtly, offering to lead her to him, _lead me all the way back home_, then the fact was locked away inside, too deep in her mind for even her own consciousness to dwell on.

~.~

_"What are you?"_

_Hands bound, tied up, leaving him hanging limply from his wrists. Chin dropping down against his chest, barely moving, eyes fluttering open and then closed, over and over._

_"What are you?"_

_Everything blurred, nausea swirling in his stomach, head throbbing, pounding against his scull. Shoulders ached, pulled out of their sockets, body too tired to move._

_"What are you?"_

_He didn't know. He knew the were, he knew the who, but he didn't know what. In pain; that was something. Weak; that was something else. Neither of those nor any of the other 'whats' that raced through his mind seemed right. He couldn't keep track of it all, keep track of the witch's voice floating, sickly sweet, through his head, dripping down like treacle. He opened his eyes and that cracked face, the rotted skin and decay filled his vision before his grey orbs were hidden from the witches view yet again._

_She circled him._

_"Your mother was a witch."_

_He trembled, still unable to fully comprehend that particular fact. It wasn't true, it couldn't be. They'd grown up with their mother, he'd killed witches for almost his entire life. There was no connection there, there couldn't be any connection there._

_He remembered things._

_Little things, tiny things, things he'd always thought were dreams or his over-active imagination._

_He remembered waking up one night, his mind barely alert, to see their mother whispering something inaudible to his sister as she slept in the bed across from his own._

_He remembered the books she used to keep hidden, the times he'd go to find her only to see her flipping through weathered pages covered by ancient runes and he'd watch until she'd see him and slam the book closed._

_He remembered the times when he was sick, how mother would come and then everything would get better so quickly. He remembered hearing stories of how he almost died as an infant and yet there he was._

_He remembered how her eyes would glow and how he'd watch her grace in awe._

_A good witch is a dead witch._

_A good witch is a dead witch._

_A good witch..._

_...mother?_

_He never tells his sister, never mentions the memories, nightmares, that plague him, because they swore never to speak of their pasts but he is haunted by it all, every tiny thing, and he tries so hard to believe that he's wrong, that he's wrong, he's wrong, he's wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong-_

_"All witches are female, ALL OF THEM."_

_The witch gripped his face in her long, bony fingers, rotten nails digging into his flesh._

_"Witches are only ever female, even hybrids. Any and ALL hybrids, they're ALL female, because the witch blood is ALWAYS passed on and only females have the capacity to deal with it, only EVER."_

_His head was jerked up, eyes blinking open, and decaying blue irises filled his blurred vision._

_"The males, the hybrid children that are born boys, they all die. Always, because the magic is so strong in a second generation witch and only the girls have the minds, the hearts, to survive it, to survive witchcraft at all. Not even a white witch could save a child from that that kind of power, not if they're unsuitable, not if they're MALE."_

_The meaning of the words barely made it into his muddled brain, barely registered in his mind and all too soon the nails were gone and his head thumped down against his chest and and the tendrils of thought dissipated completely._

_Witches talked too much._

_Footsteps circled him again._

_"But you have the witch blood, I can smell it in you, pouring out of you. I missed it at first, it's so easy to miss, but I see it now, I smell..." The rotted face was against his neck and the witch sniffed in a great lungful of air, making him tremble uncontrollably._

_"You have the witch blood. What are you?"_

_Breath on his neck._

_"What are you?"_

_Pain in his wrists._

_"What are you?"_

_His face was taken up in the witch's hands again and her disgusting features filled his spinning vision._

_"WHAT ARE YOU?!"_

Hansel woke with a start, his breathing fast and heavy, eyes darting around as he jolted up into a sitting position only to feel his head spin and stomach lurch and he fell to one side and puked up everything he'd eaten in the past two days, which hadn't actually been all that much. It all ran into the dirt and the smell made the nausea rise tenfold. He groaned, pushing himself onto his hands and knees, and slowly crawled away from the mess he'd made. He found the side of a building and moved up onto his knees, cursing his head for pounding so horribly. His eyes ached, his mouth was dry.

_Hangover._

Hansel remembered running from his sister, moving away before Gretel had time to protest and he'd kept moving, wanting to get as far as he could from everything as quickly possible. He could have gone into the forests, hunted helpless animals in an effort to get his mind off of everything or he could have visited a bar, drunk himself silly and effectively taken his mind off of everything.

It's safe to say that he'd settled on the latter.

He remembered walking into the tavern, finding some other men drinking away their sorrows and joining them. He remembered the first glass and the second, but then there was nothing and he would never have drunk too much.

Drinking makes you drunk.

Getting drunk gives you a hangover.

Getting a hangover gets you killed.

_Either by witches or by his sister, there was no point differentiating in this particular case._

But the signs, the throbbing in his head, the dryness of his mouth, the nausea and vomiting and the way his eyes burnt because of the early morning sun, that meant only one thing. _Drinking. Drunk. Hangover._

He wasn't dead though, or at least, he didn't feel dead.

With shaking, heavier-than-led hands, he pat himself down and concluded that he was, in fact, very much alive. His pouch was strapped to his leg, needles intact, his vest still hung off his shoulders, gloves soiled with things he didn't want to know the name of. His sluggish excuse for a mind desperately tried to gather enough information to continue, to do something, but he could only piece together the most meager and basic words.

_Drunk._

_Hungover._

_Morning._

_Gretel._

Gretel; that was a word he could use. Gretel would be at the inn, sorting through files and worrying about him, wouldn't she? Yes, she would, she had to be. So, what did he need to do? _Gretel, Gretel, Gretel... find Gretel._ Gretel could think and act and fix everything. Gretel dealt with the plans, Gretel thought logically, Gretel was confident around people, Gretel's mind was never clouded by anything. Gretel was his big sister...

...Gretel was so much better than him.

No, depressing thoughts hurt too much, and he had to get back to the inn, so there was no time to dwell on it. The tavern wasn't too far away from their lodgings, Hansel had made sure of that when they'd arrived, and judging by the amount of piss and puke in the alley he was in the middle of, he hadn't migrated far in his drunken state. He'd move out onto the Main Street, head up the road a little and crawl back into the inn and then into small space under the bed where it was perfectly dark and silent.

_See, orchestrating plans wasn't so difficult!_

Carrying them out, Hansel discovered, wasn't quite so simple, and he attributed that particular characteristic to his position as orchestrator of said plans.

Moving out onto the Main Street was fine if crawling was acceptable, and seeing as crawling was indeed a form of movement Hansel was perfectly fine with it. When he finally moved out into the wider, busier road, his head was surely killing him. It was throbbing incessantly, with renewed vigor, and it was all Hansel could do to drag himself forwards, bile forcing its way into the back of his throat as he struggled not to pass out in the dirt like some homeless ass (which may or may not have been that he was, but that wasn't the point.)

Gretel's methods were never so difficult.

But somehow, because of some twisted fate or godsend, a blessing from above, Hansel hauled himself through the inn's wooden door and up the two flights of stairs until he could vaguely make out the blurred shape of the entrance to their room.

He'd made it.

...almost.

Hansel really should have thought about this part of his plan far sooner, and because he hadn't he was left lying against the door he needed to pass through. His mind spun and dribbled, rolling down the walls of his skull in a thick, icky, useless paste and Hansel could no longer form coherent thought.

With an exhausted groan, barely audible and echoing with confusion and pain, Hansel let his eyes close.

_"Gretel..."_


	3. III

**So, my cousin and I last night were discussing sleeping arrangements seeing as we were both sleeping over at nonna's, and he's like 'if the bed was high enough we could do a Hansel and Gretel, sleeping on the floor. What a good brother' and my H & G feels just flipped and summersaulted and started hula dancing inside me. That was one of the best parts in the movie, guys, one of the best.**

**So enjoy this chapter, I don't have any more pre written ones after this actually, but a friend of mine hasn't seen it yet so I'll probably go see it with her again (again again) and my inspiration will come rushing back. The plot here seems kinda... sketchy, but I need to sort things out so please bare with it. I've put in some nice sibling stuff at the end to make up for everything.**

**Also, about Hansel's dream. In the movie, I noticed that every single witch was female, and assuming that the witch 'gene' or whatever is pretty damn prominent in both good and bad witches, I didn't think that any child of a witch or anyone with that 'gene' would end up just human. (Take Hansel and Gretel themselves for example, not only the immunity to magic but how they seemed to heal very quickly and be stupidly strong) Therefore, and if we continue with the pretenses; all witch children (including half breeds) have the 'gene' and therefore are witches and all witches are female, we are left with one question; what the hell happens to the male children of good and bad hell spawn? Well, my mind came up with one, logical conclusion; they die. Hansel, however, didn't die (obviously, and thank god for that) for a reason which will be explained at one point, probably after I figure it out myself... But, and as one gorgeous reviewer already mentioned, it means that maybe Gretel isn't the only one of interest to the witches after all.**

**Don't care if people disagree with me, and I don't want to start any debates or discussions about it, this is my story and I'm doing it my way, because that's the way it works. (And, well, my way is pretty damn cool)**

**Also, you'll have to take everything with a pinch of salt. It's is set before the movie and yet it negates a lot of the stuff in the movie. I'll be sure to up the awesome to make up for it, okay?**

**'Til next time.**

**-Me.**

~.~

Gretel was pacing.

It was past noon, meaning an entire day had passed since she'd last seen Hansel, and although at first she'd managed to distract herself by attempting to make progress on their case she'd eventually found herself checking to make sure he'd taken his medication and staring out of the window in case he was walking up the road towards her.

He never was.

And now she couldn't stop walking back and forward, her leather boots thumping against the wooden floors with each step she took. She kept replaying their last conversation in her mind, kept dwelling on the harsh conclusions she'd come too (regardless of whether or not she was correct) and, more importantly, the language she'd used. He was her little brother, and although she felt responsible for him it didn't give her an excuse to... to...

If something had happened, she'd never forgive herself.

Gretel's thoughts moved back and forward, much in the same fashion as her body did, and she was debating whether or not to go out and start looking for her brother.

_He could be hurt, _her mind supplied, _hurt and unable to come home. He could be lost or in trouble or just upset and lacking the willpower to return to the inn. He could need her._

_Or he could be angry, he could want space and she needed to respect that. She needed to respect him._

_But if she went and found him and he didn't need her then he'd understand, right? He'd done the same thing only twenty four hours ago, hadn't he?_

_And look where that got you._

Gretel shook her head, grumbling softly under her breath as she forced herself to mute her thoughts. Making up her mind, she quickly took her black coat and wrapped it around her on the way to the door. Before she could stop herself, her hand was on the brass handle and she yanked it open with far more force than necessary.

Hansel's limp body, disturbed by the sudden movement, rolled back against her feet.

It took Gretel five seconds longer than it stood have to drop down beside her brother's prone form and put her ear to his chest, finding a heart beat immediately and sighing in relief. She let her head fall against his shoulder, eyes closing gently, and took a moment to breathe.

She wanted to be angry, she should have been angry, especially because of the alcohol she smelt on his breath and the stink seeping from his clothes. Especially because she'd been out of her mind with worry only to find him passed out outside her door. She should have been angry, but she wasn't, because he was her little brother and he deserved the slack, just this once.

With that in mind, Gretel gripped his wrists, faltering as Hansel flinched at her tight hold but continuing regardless of the minute action, and dragged him into the small bedroom. She let go for a second to reach back and kick the door closed before moving to pick up a flask of water and pouring it onto Hansel's face.

He jolted up and spluttered out the liquid that slipped between his lips, unfocused eyes rolling in their sockets until they stopped on her and Hansel froze, one hand coming up to wipe his face, confusion and disorientation visible in is gaze. His mind seemed to snap back into the present and things clicked back into place, his face suddenly becoming apprehensive. He expected her to scream at him, and why wouldn't he? She'd made it all so perfectly clear yesterday and his actions since then could have only made everything worse.

Hansel opened his mouth to try and explain, but the words were lost on his tongue.

Gretel, on the other hand, found the entire situation quite hilarious, and couldn't help but chuckle warmly down at him. The sound morphed into an uproarious laugh at the shock and confusion so openly evident on Hansel's face.

It took a few seconds, but soon Hansel smiled softly as well, looking sheepish as he fixed his eyes to the floor and scratched awkwardly at the back of his aching head.

"Come on, brother," Gretel said softly, taking a cloth in her free hand before kneeling down beside him and using it to wipe at his wet, mud-streaked face as if he were an invalid.

"Let's get you clean."

Hansel nodded minutely, letting his head fall against Gretel's shoulder. She returned the gesture, wrapping him up tightly in her arms.

They were okay.

~.~

"Sheriff," Hansel greeted politely, nodding to him curtly despite how his head protested. He repeated the action towards the sheriff's wife, offering her a small, forced smile, and the quiet woman nodded back.

_Polite, be polite, there is a right way and a wrong way of doing things, do it right, do it right, do it right, do it right, do it right..._

Gretel followed Hansel into the small room, watching him move off to one side and throwing a concerned glance towards him. He didn't respond, eyes closed gently, brow furrowed as a result of the hangover that hadn't quite passed. She'd offered to talk to the travelers by herself so he could sleep it off, but after his flat out refusal Gretel decided to let him get his own way. She knew he was still angry at himself and this may very well be the only way he could finally start to feel better.

It didn't mean that Gretel particularly liked seeing him suffer, even if it was because of his own stubborn thickheadedness and stupidity.

"I've told our guests that you'd be arriving," the sheriff said warmly, looking them both over as he got straight to the point. If he noticed Hansel's bloodshot eyes or the taught muscles in the younger man's pounding forehead, he didn't say anything, fully accustomed to the less that desirable after-effects of alcohol. "Would you please tell the lads to come down?" He directed the question at his wife, who nodded quickly before scuttling off.

"We appreciate your cooperation, Sheriff," Gretel said flatly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Most of the other officers weren't too happy with our presence in the town."

"Yes, well I'm older that all of them," he returned with a chuckle, "they're too young to let their heads do the talking. I know you're here to help, only someone inexperienced or stupid would turn you away."

The sheriff's wife slipped back into the room, nodding to them before turning and disappearing into another hallway. Hansel and Gretel shared a glance, both happy with the sheriff's explanation, before turning to look at the young men filing slowly into the room. There were only two, both tall with lanky frames, their clean clothes hanging off their bodies with far too much room to spare. The first looked younger than the siblings, with light hair that obscured part of his face, and the other looked far older, with darker features and a stern expression. Hansel and Gretel looked them over closely.

"Meet Christian and Hans, two of the four travelers that were attacked just outside of the town's boarders. I believe the other boys are both sleeping, are they not?"

The older looking one, Hans, nodded stiffly, remaining silent.

"You wanted to ask us some questions?" Christian stuttered, his voice timid and soft. Hansel decided to let Gretel deal with him, she was far better with the shy ones after all. The older man, Hans, didn't seem quite so trustworthy, and Hansel watched him carefully.

"We just want to know what happened," Gretel said sweetly, not sounding at all angry or hurried, her motives completely pure.

Hansel almost felt jealous.

_He would have, only between watching Hans and fighting the throbbing in his skull there wasn't much of him left to do anything._

"Okay," the boy began, shifting nervously. "We were setting up camp for the night, not yesterday but the day before, and there were these noises. The fire wasn't lighting and it was getting dark, so we were all pretty highly strung. Nikola was yelling about something and then his voice just... cut off. It stopped and everything was silent and we were calling for him but he didn't say anything. Gunther screamed, it was so loud, and the shadows all started moving. I grabbed Francis and Hans and we ran until we came across the open road. Francis, he was..." Christian faltered, swallowing deeply before continuing. "There was blood all over him, and he was shaking so badly. We called out for anyone else and Ian came, carrying another body over his shoulders, and when he put if down we couldn't tell who it was. Ian, he couldn't find a heart beat and then it was moving, it was crawling and there were beetles and there were all over Ian and the body it... it just..."

The words caught in Christian's throat and Gretel smiled encouragingly at him.

"It was gone. Insects were everywhere but the body was gone and Ian started screaming for his brother and trying to run back into the woods but Hans wouldn't let him go and we all ran and kept running until we found this place. I don't know what happened to them, it was a miracle that the four of us got here. If we'd run the other way..."

There was another shaking sigh and Christian kept his eyes glued to the floor, tears threatening to build up and pour down over his cheeks. Gretel saw this and motioned for the sheriff to take the boy back upstairs.

"Thank you, Christian, you've been very helpful. We don't need anything else."

There were quiet footsteps and then Hansel and Gretel were left alone with Hans.

Hansel had tried to follow the conversation, he really had, but his head was pounding and the nausea was coming back and all the words just ended up jumbled and incoherent. He heart the part about the insects, though, and groaned internally.

Woodland witches.

_Damn them all._

Gretel watched Hansel carefully, concern radiating from her eyes even as the rest of her face remained passive.

Hans remained silent.

Before a word was spoken a crash and an ear-piercing scream sounded from upstairs, the sound deep and filled with terror. Gretel took off up the stairs without thinking, leaving Hansel to struggle after her, desperately trying ignore the pain in his head.

They ran into Christian, the sheriff and his wife, and the two other boys the siblings could only assume we're Ian and Francis in the hallway, finding four of the five faces taught with fear, the sheriff's wife going as far as to run out of the hall with tears staining her cheeks. The sheriff had Christian's arms caught behind his back as the boy screamed, crying Francis Francis Francis and Hansel quickly caught the other, Ian, in the same fashion.

Gretel moved in-between them to help a struggling Francis only to find herself sprayed with the water that was pouring from between his lips.

It was only then that she saw it, after it literally hit her in the face. Francis was choking, an endless stream of dirty water filling his lungs and drowning him on dry land. It came up, spluttered out between his lips and stained the walls a disgusting brown. He fell to his knees, horrible gurgling sounds escaping his throat.

It lasted a few seconds before there was a thump and nothing, Francis's body lying prone on the wooden floor.

The sheriff took Ian and Christian and led them down the stairs, easily stopping their struggles with a brute force neither sibling knew he possessed.

Hansel watched Gretel step forward, rolling Francis over to reveal pale blue eyes, void of all life, frozen open like smoked glass. Brownish water stained what has once been fair features, turning his soft skin to stone. His veins stood out, deep blue, lips grey and cold.

"Serpent witch," Gretel murmured, studying the boy's face intently before looking back up to meet Hansel's eyes.

"And I thought today couldn't get any worse."

~.~

Gretel smiled softly at her brother, watching him intently as he slowly drank through his first glass of ale for the evening, 'first' because even though he'd reassured her, she was sure it wouldn't be his last. His headache had finally passed after the incident at the sheriff's house and Gretel was thoroughly irritated to see him back at the tavern, although she accepted that this time it wasn't his fault. They'd been roped into this meeting by a few of the younger officers, ones obviously not overly fond of their being there, and although neither of them expected any good to come of it they didn't want to give the men any more of a reason to hate them.

And, to be honest, it was Hansel she was worried about. Not because he couldn't defend himself, they both could, but the men in question were more likely to ambush him in a dusty side street later that night or over the next few days rather than her, and although Hansel would probably be fine in the end there was no way he could immediately handle eight well built townsmen without a weapon or his wits about him. Together, they could handle anything, but when they were apart they were weak and Gretel didn't want to think about what would happen to her brother before her or the sheriff could intervene.

So they were at the tavern, waiting for five officers who were incredibly tardy, although Gretel was glad for some time alone with her brother. She looked over him closely, glad that he'd at least managed to make himself presentable for the evening. In fact, if she weren't so critically aware of him, he wouldn't look any different than he usually did. She saw the exhaustion in his features and cursed whatever she could think of.

Gretel remembered that he still had eaten very little in the past few days, and with another glance around for the officers who had yet to arrive she decided to remedy that. Slowly slipping off her stool, she squeezed Hansel's shoulder, whispering quietly in his ear.

"Be back in a second."

Hansel nodded softly, sipping at his drink, and Gretel felt his eyes on her as she moved to the bar. The bartender was a middle-aged man with graying hair, methodically wiping down the bench top. Gretel smiled sweetly at him, leaning her elbows on the slightly damp section of wood that he'd just cleaned.

"Gretel, yes?" he said softly, casting a disproving glance at the extremity she'd placed in his way. "I've been told to give you and your brother whatever you want, although if you start drinking like he did last night I maybe see fit to disobey that request."

Gretel chuckled softly, lowering her head with a smile even as the bartender watched her with narrowed eyes.

"Just some food, if you will?" she asked politely. "Hansel hasn't eaten much you see. Fruit and bread, or maybe some cheese? Nothing too extravagant, nor anything that you don't have to spare."

The bartender seemed to brighten slightly at this, relived that she hadn't asked for anything even remotely indispensable, and with a toothy grin he nodded, moving away to gather the food. Gretel took the opportunity to turn around, leaning back against the bar, to cast a watchful eye over the large tavern. She caught sight of a few rowdier groups towards the back, men, she decided, it would be best to avoid, and noted that the officers they were waiting for still had yet to arrive. With a small sigh, she looked back over to Hansel, who hadn't moved from his position at a small, round table, only to see him obviously struggling to deal with three persistent females. They were getting close to him, too close in Gretel's opinion, and although he was tense, which she could see from ten meters away, and avoiding any kind of speech and eye contact they weren't leaving him alone. She couldn't blame them, not really, but it didn't mean she liked them getting into her brother's personal space. He'd been with women before, every blue moon or two, but had never really build up the confidence to politely converse with the fair sex. It was worse when he crushed on a particular female, which had happened from time to time, although nothing ever came of it and Gretel was left to pick up the pieces afterward, but the point still stood. Gretel couldn't help but chuckle quietly at the utter helplessness she saw on Hansel's face as one of the girls moved ever closer to his side.

With a grateful nod directed at the bartender, who'd placed a small bowl of food behind her, she balanced the wood in her palm and walked slowly back over to their table, eyeing the situation closely. Usually, she'd sit beside the girls and subtly egg them on, torture Hansel just that little bit because he was her little brother and she loved him, but tonight she could see that he was tired. She could see it and that made all the difference.

Gretel approached the table, simultaneously slipping in-between her brother and the closest flirting female and sliding the bowl of food under his face. He'd been hanging his head, eyes closed gently, and as the scent cheese wafted against his nose he was suddenly completely awake. He looked gratefully at Gretel, who knew that he didn't want to appear so vulnerable, and she nodded in return, the action telling him that she'll take control now. That he didn't have to worry anymore.

"You're...Gretel, right? Hansel's sister?" One of the girls said, stumbling over her name like she didn't quite remember. She was young, _too young,_ and wearing far too little clothing for Gretel's liking. "We were just saying how well Hansel did, with that little girl and the witch. You must be really strong, Hansel, you look so strong."

The other girls '_mmhmmmed_' in agreement and one went as far as to reach up and feel the firm muscle at Hansel's bicep, rubbing it gently with her fingers. The others soon joined in, one pushing the untouched food out of the way as she clambered over the bench to press her palm against his stomach and abdomen.

Gretel caught Hansel's eyes and he begged her to help him.

"Yeah, he did. I ran straight for the girl, and he took the two witches all by himself."

The girls made approving noises, continuing to touch Hansel. He only glared at his sister.

_Traitor_.

"Started with the bigger one, hand to hand combat before he pulled out a knife and cut off one of her arms. She ran then, they both did, and he chased them through the wall and cut through the back of her ankle as she tried to get away, knocked out her teeth with the hilt of his blade and then put it through her eye."

The girls' movements began to falter and Hansel's previous feelings of betrayal quirked up into smug amusement.

"He then went for the last one, who was smaller but much faster, and she put her broom through his shoulder before he could get his hands on her. She didn't get away though, because he strapped himself to the back of the stick and went flying, rocks and branches snapping against him. It was quite a sight, and stupid as hell, but soon the witch was down and he cut off her ears and pulled out her teeth, before slicing her stomach and watching her insides fall out over the floor. He was covered in them, I don't think you got all of it out of your hair Hansel, you've barely had a chance to bath since..."

As she said this Gretel moved forward and began playing with Hansel's hair, pretending to pick through it. She had watched as the girls all whitened, their hands slowly pulling back into their laps, and Gretel was about to start on the part where the witches blood had turned into beetles that had slipped inside Hansel's shirt and jacket.

Before she could they hurriedly made some crappy excuse about leaving and then they were gone.

Gretel had hardly told them any truths about the previous hunt, but that didn't seem to matter in the slightest.

Hansel chuckled softly, letting his forehead fall into Gretel's palm. She pressed her hand against it firmly, worried about the slight heat she was sure she detected.

"Tomorrow we'll hunt. Tonight, you eat, sleep, and take an hour or two to fix yourself up a bit, okay?" She said it softly, _gently_, but Hansel knew that there was no room for discussion. He was thankful for the effort.

With a weak nod, Hansel shifted his head back so he was looking straight ahead, letting it hang down a little even as Gretel pushed the food back under his nose, breaking up the bread into small chunks. He didn't like being treated like an invalid, but he saw the way Gretel cast controlled glances around the bar, scoping out possible threats, and decided not to complain, just this once. She didn't even seem to realize she was doing it, breaking up his bread that is, and it reminded him of those days when his sickness used to get bad and she'd lock them in their hotel room and confine him to bed, no exceptions. She'd help him drink water and break up his food and when the pain got too bad she'd climb up next to him and brush back his hair, soothing his nightmares even though he made sure never to let any complaint escape his own lips.

He picked up a piece bread and some cheese and chewed slowly.

"They still aren't here."

Gretel seemed suspicious, although Hansel only saw it because he had already mastered the reading of her eyes, and did his best not to interrupt her thoughts.

"They wanted this meeting, over an hour ago, but they still aren't here."

He nodded mutely, biting into a small, round fruit and letting the juices swirl over his tongue. Gretel kept ripping at the bread until the bowl was filled with small pieces rather than one, medium sized loaf, and Hansel watched her chew thoughtfully on her own bit of cheese.

"They're planning something."

The tightness in her voice, the dark undertones, the suspicious glances, it all made Hansel want to choke on his food. Laughter bubbled in his throat, Gretel's antics forcing him to gag as air moved around the food in the back of his mouth.

She had her hands on his back immediately, worry obvious in her movements, and Hansel could almost feel her mind thinking '_poison poison poison poison_'.

When Gretel realized he was just laughing, worry morphed into confusion.

Hansel shook his head, grinning, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Gretel understood.

~.~

**Do you want the rest of the night as the next chapter, with them heading home or something (sweet sibling stuff) or should I get straight into the hunt? I don't mind adding a little extra every now and then, so I thought I'd give you a choice. (As a thank you, because even though my head is killing me (slowly) I'm still grinning like crazy because of the response I've been getting. HAPPY FEELS.)**


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